"Dianora—Dianora!" said he, reproachfully, but mildly; "there was a time
when you were not wont to pronounce my name in such a tone. Alas! sweet
cousin—like myself, its very sound seems changed."
"Poor Giosué!" she began.
"Was not expected here to-night," said he, bitterly. "No; you await
another. Cattivo! I know it."
He regarded her gloomily; his fierce dark eyes sparkling in the twilight
like those of a basilisk; and she, who but a moment before had been all
eagerness for the arrival of Oliver Lascelles, now mentally implored
Heaven that he might not come that night, for something dreadful would
certainly ensue.
"Dianora," said the young man, "is it true what they tell me—that you
love this stranger?"
"As I never can love thee, Giosué," replied the girl, with timid energy.
"Malediction! Have you forgotten how you once swore your hand should be
mine?"
"True, Giosué; but you were not then what you have since become."
"Hear me, false one! I swear by God and his blessed saints, that the
hand you promised me shall never be the prize of another. No!
Maladetto! I will slay you rather!" He laughed bitterly, and spoke in
a hoarse tone. "You despise me, Dianora. I am now a penniless outlaw.
May our uncle, the hard-hearted bishop, whose miserly cruelty has driven
me to despair——"
"O most ungrateful and unkind, Giosué! say rather your own wild and
intractable spirit has occasioned your destruction——"
"And the loss of your love, Dianora?"
"Indeed, Giosué, I never could have loved you as—you would wish to be
loved: but I have pitied you, wept for you, prayed for you——"
"Bless you, dear girl," replied the young man, with intense sadness;
"you are very good and amiable; but I feel that love for you is making
me mad!"
"Now, leave me, Giosué. Should the bishop find you here——"
"Say rather he whom you expect!" he exclaimed, bitterly and jealously.
"Ha! false and fickle one! within sound of my whistle are those who in a
moment would bear you off to yonder mountains in spite of all
opposition, and leave in flames this villa of our dog of an uncle. But
no, signora; I must have your love freely, or not at all."
"A moment ago you threatened——"
"Peace! Attempt not to stir until you have heard me. This cursed
English lieutenant (ha! malediction! you see I know him), if he comes
hither to-night may get a reception such as he little expects." He
uttered a ferocious laugh, and struck with his hand the weapons which
garnished his girdle. They clattered, and the heart of Dianora trembled
between fear and indignation; for nothing rouses a young girl’s spirit
so much as hearing her lover spoken of lightly.
"Cospetto! let this baby-faced teniente beware," continued Giosué; "or,
by the blessed Trinity! I will put a brace of bullets through his
brain."
"Wretch!" exclaimed the trembling Dianora, "begone, lest I spit upon
you! O Giosué! are you indeed become so ruffianly? Have brigandism and
outrage hardened you thus?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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